


Wishful Thinking

by thecirclesquare



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-28 22:49:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8465941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecirclesquare/pseuds/thecirclesquare
Summary: I'm hooked on Sanvers, and I need to emote. Here I will collect all my drabbles about Alex Danvers and Maggie Sawyer. Enjoy the angst.





	

Danvers leaned back in her chair, her phone still in hand. She tapped her toe absentmindedly along the edge of her desk as she considered Maggie’s words.

_Wear something nice._

She let her mind drift back to the first lead Maggie had taken her down, a dive bar haven for aliens, the bartender of which was a confirmed ex. Wait, no, a telepathic ex with a psychic connection.

 _Sounds like baggage,_ Alex reminded herself. _I should steer clear._

Still, Maggie was a great detective, and her instincts were never wrong. At least not as far as Alex had seen. No matter what, Alex was sure that a night spent with Detective Sawyer was going to be worth it, even if she didn’t have anything to wear that wasn’t two years behind the fashion.

She smiled to herself. _Well, shit. Guess I’d better go shopping._

Several busy boutiques and a few minor break downs later, Alex stood in front of her mirror, lash curler in hand. She leaned forward, until she was so close to the mirror that she could see her own pores.

God, she hadn’t been this close to her own reflection in...how long? She noticed her own lips. Looking a little thin. She noticed her own hair. Looking kind of flat. And yet…

A memory flashed across her mind. It was the night down at the foundry, when she found Maggie with her hands bound above her head. Someone else might have looked distressed to be caught in such a vulnerable position. But not Maggie. She looked cool, calm, collected. In fact, when Alex came out of the shadows to untie her, she licked her lips and smiled, didn’t she? Like she was almost enjoying it?

Or maybe that was just Alex’s memory playing tricks on her. Maybe that was just…

“Wishful thinking?” she asked her reflection.

“Or,” Alex continued, playing devil’s advocate to herself, “maybe she saw something she liked?”

Alex stared at herself, long and hard. She tried to imagine what Maggie might see in her.

_What would I think of me if I was a non-white, non-straight girl from Nebraska?_

The thought set Alex’s stomach on edge. She decided she needed more mascara and better hair. Another half hour later, she regarded herself one last time. Her heart pounded as she sized herself up.

_I’d think I’m hot._

She spritzed herself with perfume and slipped on her shoes. And then, as she switched off the bathroom light and walked toward the front door, the thought struck her.

_And what if she doesn’t?_

She paused at the door, her hand resting on her clutch – a fucking impractical accessory. All kinds of red flags were waving in front of her face. Alien ex-girlfriend. Impulsive behavior. Possible promiscuity. Impossibly stubborn. Serious baggage.

_What am I doing?_

And yet, her pounding heart pushed her forward. She picked up the clutch. She opened the door.

“My job,” she said as she shut off the light. “I’m just doing my job.”

 

 


End file.
